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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24086650">bring me back from fallen town</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonelessbluemilk/pseuds/bonelessbluemilk'>bonelessbluemilk</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>punk supernaturals and monsters au [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Clash</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Mild Blood, Supernatural Elements, honestly not even i know what im doing anymore</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:01:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>990</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24086650</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonelessbluemilk/pseuds/bonelessbluemilk</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Bone needles and white cotton thread. A metal pail filled with freezing water. Rags soaked in watered down blood. A chipped mug of black tea so strong he could smell it. Cigarette smoke wafting from the kitchen. The radio playing something he vaugely recognized mixed with so much static you could barely hear it. Long fingers dancing over aching skin, cold and dense but precise in their movements. The constant white noise of rain against the roof.<br/>Slowly, but surely, his surroundings were becoming more clear.<br/>Or<br/>A Clash "supernaturals and monsters" AU because shut up</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>punk supernaturals and monsters au [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1762042</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>bring me back from fallen town</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello m'dears. This is a little one-shot of an au that I've had up my sleeve for the past month or so. Wasn't sure how to get the ball rolling, so I scrolled out this snazzy little number. There's nothing I love more than funky little family dynamics, and I think it works especially well with these boys.<br/>joe is a werewolf<br/>mick is a sentient undead<br/>topper is a spirit<br/>paul is a vampire<br/>TW's mostly for blood and depiction of injury.<br/>As always, this is fiction. I don't know or didn't know any of the people depicted in this story. This is something that I made up and put out there for the world to see, take my interpretations of these people as characters with a grain of salt.<br/>Title is from O Green World by Gorillaz</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bone needles and white cotton thread. A metal pail filled with freezing water. Rags soaked in watered down blood. A chipped mug of black tea so strong he could smell it. Cigarette smoke wafting from the kitchen. The radio playing something he vaugely recognized mixed with so much static you could barely hear it. Long fingers dancing over aching skin, cold and dense but precise in their movements. The constant white noise of rain against the roof. Slowly, but surely, his surroundings were becoming more clear.<br/>
"Don't move," Mick instructed, voice firm but quiet. Joe groaned as a means of reply, but attempted to sit up nonetheless.<br/>
Mick put his hand on Joe's chest, as more of a caution than an attempt to actually hold him down. "I just said don't move."<br/>
Joe laughed a bit, a feat which proved incredibly painful. "Why can't I?"<br/>
"Because," Mick replied casually, tightening a stitch on Joe's side, "in theory, these wounds should've killed you."<br/>
Mick contined to stitch up Joe's gashes, the hollow needle dipping in and out of his flesh. "Ow. Ow, ow, ow. Are you cross stitching or what? Be more- ow- gentle."<br/>
"Mhm," Mick said, tying off the row of stitches and biting the thread off from the spool. "You're lucky you live with me. Almost gave me a heart attack this morning. Thought I was out of thread. The kind I usually use would give you blood poisoning."<br/>
Joe smiled a bit. "Is that right? Damn, that would've been a good story."<br/>
Mick scoffed. "I can't believe you." He wiped the closed gash with cold water, causing Joe to breathe in sharply. "So, what happened?"<br/>
"For a dead chap, you sure do a lot of talking."<br/>
"Don't be a cunt. Humor me."<br/>
"Hm." Joe paused a second, thinking. "Exploding nazis."<br/>
"Interesting," Mick deadpanned, searching his setup for bandages. "You ripped their throats out, I assume?"<br/>
"Indeed I did," Joe replied. "Pass me a fag, won't you?"<br/>
"Sorry mate," Mick said, wrapping Joe's side in gauze, "no smoking in the operating room."<br/>
"We're on the living room floor."<br/>
"No smoking in the operating living room floor. Sit up a second." Joe lifted himself up, trying not to burst any stitches. Mick wrapped the gauze around Joe's entire chest and secured it with surgical tape.<br/>
"Don't do anything too stupid before the stitches are out. You should be healed by next moon, just in time to get cut to pieces again."<br/>
"Ever the optimist you are, Mickeyboy. Where the hell is Paul?"<br/>
"In the kitchen," came a soft voice from behind the both of them, making Mick jump and Joe shiver. "Mother Mary's tits, Nicky."<br/>
Nicky was sitting with his legs crossed on the couch, clasping a mug in both hands. The grey light streaming in from the windows cut parts of him from a blurry outline into little more than a shadow. "Well, sorry. It's not very easy for me to make my presence known."<br/>
"How long've you been sitting there?"<br/>
"Why? Were you two snogging or something?" Both men gave him venomous looks, and his outline paled a bit. "'M kidding. Not that long, i got up a few minutes ago. Paul's in the kitchen. He caught a chicken or somethin', roasting it for dinner."<br/>
Joe tried his best to get comfortable. "Mick, Nick, one of you -icks, get me a cuppa and a fag. Please," he tacked on as an afterthought.<br/>
Mick gave Nicky a look, and the latter groaned. "Fine. Paul!"<br/>
"What'd I do?" Paul emerged, hair tousled, looking tired. A half-burned cigarette was held loosely between his fangs.<br/>
"Joe's temorarily incapacitated. Put on the kettle, would ya?" Mick asked, wringing out the bloody cloths into the water bucket.<br/>
"Why can't one of you shmucks do it?" Mick and Nicky looked at each other, having no good answer. Nicky put his mug down and attempted to pick it up again, his hand phasing through. "I can't," he clarifyed, as if the message of his demonstration wasn't clear.<br/>
Paul disappeared into the kitchen, muttering, but ran water for the kettle anyway.<br/>
"Help me up," Joe muttered, struggling to sit upright.<br/>
"Stop, stop, you're gonna burst your stupid cuts," Mick fretted, and slung Joe's arm over his shoulder. "Don't bend," he instructed, hoisting Joe to his feet and pulling him, rather unceremoniously, onto the sofa next to Nicky.<br/>
"Oi, be a bit more gentle with your patients, Doctor," Joe groaned, rubbing his injured side.<br/>
"Sorry, you're heavy. You could've taken my arm off."<br/>
The kettle whistled from the kitchen, and after a bit of sitting in comfortable silence Paul returned, holding three mugs at once.<br/>
"What kind is that? Earl grey?"<br/>
"I haven't the foggiest," Paul replied. "I can't smell shit."<br/>
After mugs were distributed, Paul took his place on the couch, squeezing his skinny butt between Nicky and Joe. Mick, having put away his various medical supplies, sat between Joe and the arm of the couch. "Stretch out more," Mick fretted, pulling Joe more into a laying position, despite the three other people on the couch.<br/>
"You're all crushing me," Nicky complained, stretching his legs over Paul's lap.<br/>
"Oi," Paul interjected, attempting to push Nicky's legs off him, but phasing through them instead. "If your legs weighed anything you'd be overboard by now," Paul muttered.<br/>
Joe scoffed, but the playful quarrel ended quickly. The tv clicked on, droaning about something, and the group was put into a sleepy, comfortable silence. Joe sighed, the lack of sleep from the full moon of the previous night starting to wear on him.<br/>
The smell of tea. Buzzing of the television. Rain, stronger now, against the windows. Rough cotton bandages against still tender skin. Smoke, the smell lingering on Paul's clothes. Quiet rhythmic tapping of Nicky's fingers, now very much solid, against his mug.<br/>
His awareness slowly fading, he heard Mick, firm but quiet. "Don't move, he's almost asleep."<br/>
Joe smiled.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Well, what did you think? Enjoy it? Didn't enjoy it? Couldn't care less? Have no idea what I'm going on about? Write me a comment to tell me what you think!<br/>Also on the topic of comments, I made this AU with the intent of giving it a whole arc, but kind of have no idea what direction it should go in. If you have any prompts or ideas, go ahead and drop them! Credit will be given ofc.<br/>Cheers, and stay safe my darlings xx</p></blockquote></div></div>
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